Sigyn's Discovery (Part 1)

Kindling (SIGYN)

He was alive. Loki was alive. It wasn't a dream, or a wish, or a forgotten fantasy—the prince survived the battle on Svartalfheim and took over the throne.

Where was Odin? Where was Thor? A practical part of myself knew deep down that it wasn't right to keep his secret, but the fact he trusted me enough to spare my life gave me pause. Besides, who would I even tell? I'd be called mad for sure. Perhaps he knew that, despite everything that I knew.

I returned to my quarters and replayed the evening in my head, bouncing between fear and excitement. Sleep was impossible. Tiwaz didn't return from his overnight prowl, so I was alone with the whir in my brain until the sun came up. A few quick dozes had to satiate my need for rest through the next day.

Getting ready for work duties, my body buzzed with anticipation and more questions. The green skirt wasn't under my bed after all—why Loki had taken it, I had no idea, though he had to be responsible. I guessed it was because the color was so well associated with him that he didn't think it was worth the risk. I agreed. The shining robe for the king's service was warm enough on its own anyway.

The moment I left my room, I clenched my jaw and acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. After all, royal service was familiar to me, so the change in routine wasn't terribly foreign. False Odin's orders waited for me and I filled them, putting together a tray for his breakfast—I was sure to mind every detail as requested, not wanting to miss even an iota of his preferences. Regardless of the man behind the station, my responsibility was unchanged—royal attendants were held to a higher standard, and reporting to the king was an honor most could only dream of. Loki was royalty either way, so my work would be presented as such. My few friends in the servantry didn't ask about my new position, which surprised me somewhat as it differed from their usual gossip. It dawned on me that they assumed I'd earned such a station through unsavory means.

If only they'd known how, when faced with my body on a platter, the king refused. Maybe not enough of an act to call him charming, but certainly humane. Gracious, even.

I headed up to the judgment hall with a confident posture, ready to prove myself. Once I arrived, however, he didn't even give me a glance. His attention was focused on a gathering of Asgard's generals, who reported something that troubled them enough to speak in hushed tones. I purposely didn't eavesdrop and left the tray at his side without a word.

Frigga often engaged me in polite conversation and genuinely cared about my welfare, treating me like family because she'd known my mother and was aware of my orphaned status. This aloofness from False Odin was entirely different—was it because of the lie at play here, or was Frigga simply too kind to be stoic? The men of the court were fundamentally cold, and I wondered if my being a woman had something to do with it. None of the soldiers eyed me, which said they didn't find the king's conduct out of the ordinary.

Typical. They had no idea how their lives and worlds would crumble if the women who kept Asgard afloat stopped doing their duties. I had half a mind to tell Sif it was her job to stand up for all the women who weren't in her position, but I imagined she had enough to prove on her own without anyone else burdening her.

I assisted in the kitchens for a few hours and through the early afternoon until it was time to repeat the routine upstairs with another tray. To my chagrin, the one I left before remained untouched. Odin continued to engage with a shifting group of men before him, and I guessed he wouldn't miss one meal today, but at least two. My heart fell at the thought as I picked up the wasted breakfast and hoped I might be able to convince him to eat supper at least.

By sunset, I'd helped prepare several meals for other high court members and watched their attendants parade from the kitchens. With supper in hand, I made my way up the stairs and asked myself if it was better to have a higher station or no secrets—either one required a level of patience that would be difficult to maintain long-term. Still, it was better than boredom.